


Drabbles on a Theme: OT3 Fluff

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: American Independence Day, Blankets, Bonfires, Camping, Drinking, Embarrassment, Explosives, Fireworks, Flag Desecration (kind of), Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Karaoke, Kilts, M/M, Moonshine, Moving In Together, Multi, Napping, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Road Trips, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Spanking, Strength, Teasing, Threesome, Tickling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unconnected drabbles about various triads.</p><p>Chapter titles are the ship's name followed by the members of the relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Offense Orgy: Scout/Soldier/Pyro

"Quit hoggin' the blanket, will ya?" Scout groused, tugging at the quilt he and his lovers shared.

"I am not hogging the blanket, you are! Stop rolling up in it like a burrito and wear it like a normal person and there will be enough for everyone!" Soldier barked back, tugging it in the opposite direction.

"My back's cold! I need to cover it! Stop starfishin' everywhere an' you won't need so much to cover yourself!" The youngest man growled, tugging back.

"I am on the edge of the bed stock stiff! You have so much blanket I cannot move or I will freeze!" Soldier tugged harder.

"SHUT UP!" Pyro yelled, interrupting them both. They went silent, staring wide-eyed at their partner. "You're both blanket hogs and if you don't let me sleep you'll be fighting over the couch!"

Scout looked to Soldier. Soldier looked to Scout. They smiled nervously.

"How 'bout I go get some extra blankets so we can have our own space, huh?" Scout lifted the quilt, slipping out from beneath it to slide off the bed and stand.

"Let me help you. We can both carry many blankets," Soldier offered, casting a worried look to Pyro, who nodded, satisfied, and watched them leave. With a sigh, the firebug settled back in, wrapping the blanket around himself in a tight loaf of fabric. He thought they'd never let him have the damned thing.


	2. Defense Debauchery: Demoman/Heavy/Engineer

"Is that all tiny Dell can lift?" Heavy taunted, tugging his shirt off to flex exaggeratedly for his lovers, a broad, cheeky grin on his face. "Is not so bad for tiny little man. Let Heavy show you how is done."

Demoman looked from the giant to the smaller of his lovers, trying his damnest not to snicker at the absolutely put-out look o the Texan's face. Leaning back against Engineer's drafting table, he resigned himself to enjoying the show, lifting his beer to his lips.

Engineer fumed, "When the hell did this become a damn contest? I'm tryin' to get stuff moved so I can clean up in here!"

"Is okay. One sentry is good for man so small," the giant teased, scooping up a pair of toolboxes containing auto-assembling sentries inside and lifting one in each arm with ease, his biceps bulging. "Giant man can easily top this, however."

"One sentry's gonna be good enough for a man so big, if'n you don't put those down, darlin'." The Texan's voice carried an edge to it, and he kicked open the lid to the sentry box he'd just set down.

His grin fading into a smile, Heavy set the toolboxes where they needed to go, actually bothering to help his littlest lover in spite of his showboating. "Maybe."  
"Guess he topped _ye_ , Misha," Demoman joked, raising his beer in a mock salute.

The two shaven-headed mercenaries looked to their lover wryly. Heavy looked him up and down before turning back to Engineer. "You are strong, I know this. I do not mean insult," he conceded to the Texan warmly.

"Aw hell, I know that. Don't mean you ain't keen on shootin' your mouth off," Engineer replied with a grin. "Now what say we show Tav a thing or two 'bout toppin'?"

"After you."


	3. Support Sandwich: Medic/Sniper/Spy

Medic sat down, his desk chair rolling a bit with the motion as he turned a skeptical glare at his lovers. Sniper and Spy were being entirely too attentive, hanging around him all day, when both men, in fact, all three of them, tended to enjoy their own space during their free time. Spy and Medic usually had paperwork or other important things to get done, and Sniper often maintenanced his gear or napped on whatever surface was closest during the evenings.

So to have them following him around since the work day had ended, affectionate and playful, had him on alert. While he quite appreciated being traded between the two for kisses in the hallway, being gently elbowed and stealthily pet at during dinner, and having the chance to chat at length with his lovers when they weren't sleepy and piled together in bed, it was enough of a break from the usual routine that he was _sure_ it spelled no good.

He was just waiting for them to break the news that they'd done something stupid and needed him to fix it, or something equally frustrating. Neither man was particularly irresponsible; he could honestly claim that label of the three of them, but they were also prone to goading one another into shenanigans and turning to the doctor to figure a way out of their situation. Not because he was a level-headed individual so much as that he was well-versed in double-talk and weaseling out of outrageous situations of his own making.

They sat by his desk, spines straight, their faces significantly less so, and Medic rolled his eyes, unsure whether he wanted to prompt them to tell him what mischief they'd gotten into. Neither was particularly good at hiding it, which was particularly shameful for Spy of all people. He shook his head and reached for a drawer to get his paperwork out.

The flurry of doves that launched from within the desk's metal drawer, flapping and fluttering with aggravated cooing at being confined, had been utterly unexpected. Medic yelped, raising his arms to shield his face as he was buffeted by feathers during their escape, and when the storm had passed, he looked over a forearm with jittery trepidation.

Sniper and Spy erupted in a fit of snorting, braying laughter that had them leaning on one another for support and shaking hands for a job well done. Then, desperately leaping out of the way of a thrown desk chair.


	4. Putting up with the Brat: Scout/Heavy/Medic

Scout had never thought this day would come. It seemed so weird.

He knew that Heavy and Medic had places in America. Of course they did. It would be dumb to go all the way to Siberia and Germany on the shorter furloughs they had, and even then, it was a week's travel to and from Heavy's place from the nearest iota of civilization, and Medic didn't have any family or ties left in Germany. He actually had a few warrants, so it was even more unlikely for him to return.

So they had places in America to stay. And so did he. When he couldn't make the time to hop a flight to and from Boston, the runner had a small apartment he kept in New Mexico to make sure he had a place to sleep and keep his stuff off-base.

But this. This wasn't a place to spend three-day off-base weekends. This wasn't a place to kip for the night every couple of months. This wasn't anything like that.

This was a house. A big, beautiful house in northern California. With a view, too many windows, and a pool. The carpets were new, the walls were new, the roof was new. Everything was new, except for them.

He turned from staring out at the coastline, roused from his thoughts by a familiar grunting. Heavy set down the stack of boxes he held, all marked for different rooms, some marked with names. Their names. His, Medic's, and Scout's. Their personal affects. He stretched his massive shoulders and turned a smile to his youngest lover. "Is little Scout alright?"

"Yeah," Scout sighed, a little dreamily. He nodded to the doorway behind the giant as Medic arrived with more boxes in hand, grousing with the strain. "Babe, behind you."

"Oh, sorry Doktor," the giant said, stepping aside and helping the older man with his burden.

"I was wondering why you'd stopped coming down for things," Medic teased, noting the comparatively smaller pile of boxes where Scout had been offloading them.

"Oh, eh, sorry, Doc. I just kinda got lost in thought."

"What about, Schatz?"

"Just how weird this all is."

"Weird?" Heavy asked, approaching the smaller man and wrapping his arms around him, tugging him to lean back-to-belly against him.

Scout relaxed into his arms. "In a good way. In a real good way. Just, I never thought I'd be livin' in a big house in the hills, let alone with you two. Never really thought I'd get to move in with you, yanno? I mean, this is our home.  _Our_ home."

Medic embraced Scout from the front, pressing a kiss to the corner of his eye. "You are happy?"

"More'n I can say," the youngest man answered dreamily.


	5. Slashed Tires: Engineer/Sniper/Spy

"I am as bored as I have ever been. I've done fruitless stakeouts that have been more eventful. I have stared at drying paint that was more entertaining. This is it. This is how I will die," Spy groaned, leaning his forehead against the passenger window of Sniper's van.

The cab was crowded, not made for three grown men, but neither particularly required much personal space when with one another, and it made for a cozier drive to be able to cuddle on the road. And there was so very, very much road.

"How much longer til' we hit the next town?" Engineer asked, fiddling with the map. He was half asking himself, half asking Sniper, who was driving.

"'Bout another hour," the bushman replied taking a deep breath to shake off his tunnel vision. There was literally nothing along this road for hours, and while he was more than accustomed to driving through stretches of desert for hours on end, he wasn't used to this much  _nothing._ There weren't even any man-sized spiders or combat-trained marsupials or poisonous monotremes attacking the van to break up the monotony. American wildlife was so boring.

"Bury me face-down without pants so I may moon you as you mourn," Spy spat, scrubbing at his face dramatically.

"Oh will you calm down? It could be worse," Sniper chastised.

"That's right. Teleporters could've gone down mid-transfer," the Texan agreed with a chuckle. "Would'a scattered whatever poor bastard it was movin's atoms all over the grid 'fore it righted itself. Chunks of meat showin' up at every base once the system went back up, and  _then_ respawn would have to reassemble and recalibrate everything to bring you back in the right order and location." He whistled softly, "That'd be a doozy."

"Charming." The rogue harrumphed, turning his gaze back out at the rolling scrublands passing by.

"Aww come on, Spook. How 'bout this? We get a bite at the next town, and since we don't have to be there til' Monday, we find ourselves a nice hotel room once we roll into the city around nightfall?" Sniper offered. "Get us the biggest bed they've got, order room service, run up a big bill and spoil you?"

Spy perked up a bit at that.

"Maybe see if we can get you worked up enough to get a noise complaint filed against our room?" Engineer added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

That did it. Spy's pout faded. "Fine, but only if I get to sleep in the middle."


	6. Soft and Round: Soldier/Demoman/Zhanna

"You're my brown-eyed girl," Soldier crooned to Demoman, his voice rough and craggy, nothing resembling pleasant in song, but it made the bomber smirk anyway, trying to hold back a laugh as he doffed his helmet. "Do you remember when we used to sing..."

He was dragged up to stand straight and lean into Zhanna as she wrapped an arm around him and joined him in loudly belting out an off-pitch and excessively loud, " SHA-LALA LA-LA LA-LA LA-LA LA-DEE-DA!"

They had dedicated the song to their boyfriend, unashamed to name him as exactly that, in front of the whole bar, earning a chorus of confused and scandalized looks, but really, Demoman hadn't really minded that part. He was used to their bombastic and public love for him and one another, and was frankly invigorated by their utter lack of shame. It was so good to love and be loved in kind, with such ferocity and honesty.

What  _ had _ bothered him, however, was that the song was Brown Eyed Girl, and he, while brown-eyed, was not a girl. Neither had apparently seen it as an obstacle in their pursuit of pleasantly embarrassing their darling demolitionist.


	7. Bloody Plaid Suit: Demoman/Sniper/Spy

"How have you not gone blind yet?" Spy asked, sniffing the mason jar that Sniper and Demoman were passing between them.

Both looked at one another, at the jar of Mundy Family Moonshine, and then to Spy. They shrugged, unsure as well.

"I think it might just be pure bloody-mindedness at this point," Demoman offered.

"I can't feel my hands," Sniper slurred, pressing his fingertips together with concern.

"Oh for God's sake, I am not losing two lovers to one jar of white dog. You are both awful." Spy snatched the jar and tossed its contents to the ground with a frown, watching the dry grass die immediately under its assault.

His inebriated boyfriends watched in interest, then broke out into laughter, falling over together in a heap, which quickly faded into sloppy making out.

Spy watched with annoyance, then stalked away. "I am taking the entire bed tonight and locking the door from the inside. You can wobble your way to the couch, you idiots."


	8. Jumping Jacks: Scout/Soldier/Demoman

"So what yer tellin' me, right now, in this instant, is that there is a holiday here that is specifically based around thumbin' yer nose at the English, gettin' flothered out o' doors, _and_ blowin' shite sky high?" Demoman asked, incredulously.

Soldier and Scout nodded emphatically, grins creeping across their faces.

 

 

"GO! GO! GO!" the Scot cried, ushering his lovers away from the blast site as soon as possible and behind a protective shield. "That fuse is long, but it's not forever!"

Scout chuckled, trying not to stumble as he clumsily tugged Soldier alongside of him, trailed by their beloved bomber, sauced three sheets to the wind and wearing naught but a star-spangled kilt he'd whipped up using an old flag (much to Soldier's chagrin), an iron, a particularly thick belt, and some duct tape. It wasn't exactly traditional attire, but then none of them were particularly traditional.

They ducked behind a stone wall, a reinforced plastic window set into the hastily-constructed thing providing them vantage to the destruction. What started as a shower of sparks pouring from the improvised mortar, an old drain-pipe driven into the dirt, quickly grew into an inferno of sparkling light. And then, the shots fired, rockets shooting up from the conflagration into the sky, lighting up the desert with yellows and greens, purples and reds, glittering flashes fading into embers as they trickled down from the heavens amid plumes of smoke. Demoman tugged a small control switch from his pocket and flicked it, setting off the final payload.

The pipe exploded, the boom deafening as the wall and surrounding scrubland was showered in iron shrapnel, a wave of heat washing out from the central point. The Americans ducked as a piece ricocheted off of the wall just above their little window, and looked, wide-eyed, to their Scottish lover.

"The hell was that?" Scout asked, terrified.

"Ye think I didnae have a grand finale ready?" Demoman waggled his eyebrows and tossed a glance to Soldier, who was grinning so wide his face looked like it must hurt. "Well?"

"THE SCOTTISH ARE GREAT AT BEING AMERICANS!" the older man belted with child-like glee. "Make us skirts too! We will celebrate our independence with our genitals in the wind!"

"It's a kil--"

Scout laid a hand on his taller lover's shoulder. "Just let 'im have this, Demo. 'Sides, I wanna see 'im in one 'a those. Got the legs for it."  
They looked Soldier up and down, watching as he removed his pants excitedly in preparation for a garment that hadn't even been made yet. Sharing a glance, Demoman smirked. "Aye, that he does."


	9. Hot Rods: Pyro/Engineer/Sniper

"Y'think that's high enough?" Engineer asked, watching as the bonfire climbed higher and higher, the wooden structure supporting it growing larger and more intricate as Pyro stacked log after log precisely within the stone fire pit.

"My face is burnin'," Sniper chuckled, scooting back a bit in his collapsible camping chair.

Pyro just cast them both a confused look, or as confused as a blank gasmask stare could be, standing halfway within the fire as it licked at his suit. "What do you mean? It's only like eight feet tall."

"Darlin', we only need enough to keep us cozy for the night and cook dinner, not signal a helicopter."

That sent Pyro's hands to his hips. "Oh come on, you'd need at least another ten feet to really get a chopper to notice!"

"Not exactly the point, love," Sniper chimed in, opening the cooler and snatching out a package of hot dogs. "More that we'll be cooked 'fore dinner, at this rate."

The firebug looked between his boyfriends with a huff, then stepped out of the fire pit. "You two are no fun."


	10. Beaux and Arrows: Heavy/Medic/Sniper

It was just as he expected.

Medic stepped into the bedroom, a smile quirking his lips as he beheld Heavy and Sniper, who were lounging in the bed they shared, snoozing away like a pair of the biggest cats he'd ever seen. They were certainly hairy enough, he mused.

Heavy lay on his back, clearly having rolled there at some point, with one hand splayed across his chest, the other thrown out at his side, likely as a pillow for when the two had curled up together, spooning, at the start of their nap. Instead, Sniper now lay across Heavy belly-to-belly, his face cushioned by his own folded arms and his ass in the air.

Chuckling at the sight, the doctor approached the bed quietly and disrobed, preparing to strike.

The slap of bare hand meeting Sniper's presented ass tore through the room, waking Heavy as the bushman started and yelped, chased with Medic's unrestrained cackle.

Scowling at being so rudely awakened, doubly so for Sniper, who gripped his sore cheek in one hand, the two taller men yanked their older lover down to join them. They quickly pinned Medic down, sleepy, grumpy tickles falling upon him in punishment, making his evil laughter fade into desperate, panicked giggles.

Even as he begged for mercy, Medic was sure that it had totally been worth it.


End file.
